Something We Always Knew
by Infinityy
Summary: Harry & Hermione fic. NC17 overall. Harry realizes he has feelings for Hermione. Does she feel the same or is he just an outlet for her wild side? Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

[1ALONE

Harry leaned against the common room wall and ran his hands roughly through his hair. He pulled his glasses off and rubbed his eyes sighing. It was raining. He could hear it pounding relentlessly against the windows. The room was empty and quiet just as he had suspected it would be. Everyone was still down at dinner and, if he had estimated correctly, would remain so for at least another forty-five minutes. He pulled himself away from the wall and collapsed heavily down onto the couch. A few lone embers crackled in the fireplace shedding small dancing shadows across the floor. Harry watched them, unblinking. For the first time in a long time, he felt alone. It was a feeling he'd long abandoned the night Hagrid had taken him away from the Dursely's, the night he'd discovered how wonderfully different he was; the night he'd learned there was somewhere he really belonged in the world. Acknowledging these thoughts made him feel foolish. He was surrounded by people who cared about him, people who understood him. Yet, here he was, sulking in the Gryffindor common room, watching the dying fire and feeling sorry for himself.

But, he had seen it.

Of course they didn't know this, but he had just the same. He balled up his fists. It had been quick; so quick in fact that Harry wondered at first whether or not it had been his imagination. Earlier this afternoon, walking out of Potions class, Hermione had grabbed Ron's hand and squeezed, following it with a wink as she had turned to go to the girl's dormitories. Ron had flushed, but composed himself immediately, never faltering with the conversation he had been having with Harry about the upcoming Quidditch match. It had all happened in a few seconds, but the wrenching feeling Harry felt in his stomach had lasted much longer.

In the Great Hall, sitting across from Ron, who had shoveled food ungracefully into mouth, and Hermione, whose nose had been buried deep in a Herbology book, dinner had become unbearable within minutes of sitting down and Harry had excused himself complaining of a stomach ache. Now here he sat miserably, wondering why his blood was boiling with anger and hurt. He slouched down further on the couch so that he could stare at the ceiling.

Was it the fact that he now felt like the odd one out of their little trio? Like there was some delicious secret they were sharing without him?

Was it the fact that Ron hadn't thought to confide in him? That his best friend who normally spouted out every single thought or feeling in his head to Harry as though he'd drunk a gallon of Vertiserium had chosen to keep this to himself?

Was it the thought that maybe he had blown this whole thing out of proportion and was being a complete git?

No, Harry thought, swallowing hard. No, it was something else; something more. It was something lurking just below the surface; something that Harry couldn't, or wouldn't, put his finger on. Harry glanced at the window again, watching rain droplets slide down the pane.

Admit it Harry. It's her.

He shook his head quickly, trying to quiet his thoughts, but it only seemed to rile them up more.

It's her Harry.

Shut up.

It's her. It's everything about her.

Stop it. Just stop it.

It's the way she taps her quill when she's thinking really hard. It's the way she tries to cover her mouth with the back of her hand when she chews. It's the way she dog-ears the pages when she thinks she's found something important and ends up with an entire book with the corners folded in.

Be quiet!

It's the way she crosses her arms and crunches her eyebrows on those rare occasions when she's wrong and the way that satisfied smile stretches across her entire face when she's right. It's the way she'd rather perch up on her tiptoes, stretching her arm over her head, exposing her smooth, cream colored midriff to reach a library book than ask for help.

Harry stood up and began pacing the room in long, anxious strides. He needed a distraction; something to keep his wandering mind busy. But, as realization began to gradually sink in, his pacing became slower and slower until he was standing still. He closed his eyes and sighed loudly.

"Hermione."

"What's that Harry?" Harry's head whipped up. Seamus and Neville had just walked into the common room. Harry shook his head, ready to put up a defense, but the two boys were already focused on a new conversation. Quietly and thankfully unnoticed Harry made his way to the staircase and headed up to bed.


	2. Chapter 2

[2 RELIEF IN TRUTH

Sitting in Charms class Harry could barely contain him self. It seemed that since being forced to acknowledge his keen awareness of Hermione, he was unable to stop looking at her, let alone thinking about her. Several times she caught him staring at her, he was sure of it, even though he looked away the moment their eyes met. In comparison, he spent the entire day avoiding Ron. Harry was embarrassed by the anger he felt rumbling under his skin whenever he looked at Ron. It was odd in contrast to the delicate butterflies that tickled his stomach whenever he watched Hermione. Looking at Ron sent his imagination reeling. He envisioned Ron with his arms wrapped tightly around Hermione's waist as they stood in the Quidditch stands cheering the Gryffindor team on; Ron with his hand rested softly on her thigh at dinner, hidden secretively beneath the table; Ron with his boyish grin, stroking Hermione's hair as she rested her head in his lap on the common room floor, buried in a large, leather bound book. These thoughts, while no doubt ridiculous, made Harry's jaw clench and his blood boil. So, in an effort to avoid suspiciously and inexplicably blowing up on Ron, he was avoiding him. It had been easy enough, Harry thought. In Defense Against the Dark Arts, he claimed he needed to sit next to Dean Thomas to discuss a new strategy for the weekend's upcoming Quidditch match. At lunch he pretended to have left a book in the common room, where he disappeared to until the Great Hall began clearing out. Harry was relieved when Charms rolled around, as it was the only class of the entire year that he and Hermione shared without Ron. But now, as Professor Flitwick was announcing their homework, Harry was busy trying to think up an excuse to skip dinner with Ron and Hermione for a second night in a row. As soon as they were let out of class, Harry tried to make a quick dash for the door, thinking he could hide out in the library for the evening, but hadn't anticipated Ron waiting right outside the room.

"Harry!" For a moment Harry considered pretending he hadn't heard his friend call out to him, but a twinge of unexpected guilt stopped him mid-step. He turned back slowly. Ron approached him, grinning broadly. Harry offered the best smile he could muster.

"I'm starving!" Ron said, tugging at his tie to loosen it. Harry nodded noncommittally.

"Can you believe Flitwick wants an essay on Silencing Charms by tomorrow!?" Harry jumped. Hermione had quietly come up behind them. Ron rolled his eyes.

"I have a feeling you'll find a way to get it done Hermione." Hermione stuck her tongue out at Ron and then turned her attention to Harry who was inspecting a loose thread on his robe. She watched him for a moment.

"Are you feeling okay today, Harry?" Hermione put her hand on his shoulder, sending warm shocks all down his arm. He jumped for a second time.

"Wha…? No... Yeah. I mean, I'm fine. Brilliant." He made the thumbs up sign and smiled weakly. Hermione eyed him carefully for a moment then shrugged.

"Well, shall we then?" she asked, gesturing down the corridor, towards the Great Hall.

"Yes! Please! I'm bloody hungry." Ron clapped his hands together and began heading in the direction Hermione had motioned.

"You're always hungry." Hermione followed behind him. Harry hung back for a moment, watching his friends chat playfully as they headed to dinner. Something about their carefree banter made Harry's shoulders sag a bit. He wondered pitifully if they'd even notice if he didn't follow and slipped off into the library instead.

"Harry?" Hermione, halfway down the corridor, had stopped and was looking at him over her shoulder. "Come on!" She flashed him a smile and, in that instant, Harry would have followed her anywhere.

-----------------

Harry idly pushed his stew around the bowl. Regardless of having skipped dinner the night before and lunch that afternoon he had no appetite. Ron, however, was helping himself to thirds. Hermione stared at him incredulously.

"What?" Ron asked, shoving a biscuit in his mouth.

"Charming, Ronald." Hermione shook her head. Harry drummed his fingers on the table. Dinner had been uneventful. Harry had tried his best to contribute to conversation, but wanted nothing more than to disappear to the dormitories and into bed. When Hermione had reached across the table to grab the butter, her jumper had risen just enough to expose an inch of soft white flesh. Harry had responded by coolly knocking over his entire mug of pumpkin juice. He sighed. I'm really pathetic, he thought grimly. On a more positive note, Ron and Hermione didn't share any more secretive squeezes or winks, at least as far as Harry could tell.

Looking around the Hall, he could see a few students were starting to get up and head to their common rooms for the night. Harry prepared to excuse himself, using Flitwick's homework as an excuse when –

"Hermione; about that _thing_… You were right." Ron said between spoonfuls of stew. Hermione folded her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes, grinning.

"I told you."

Harry's eyes darted back and forth between Ron and Hermione while his mind worked furiously to crack their private exchange. Ron dropped his spoon into his now empty bowl and wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

"I tell ya' Harry, Hermione knows girls." Ron leaned back precariously on the bench.

"She…wait, what?" Harry began, but was interrupted by Hermione who snorted loudly.

"It couldn't possibly be because I _am_a girl? Or is it you're so thick you haven't noticed?" Ron held up is hands defensively. Hermione glared at him and tossed her hair over her shoulder. I've noticed, Harry thought distractedly. I've definitely noticed.

"Apparently, Ron thought that by completely ignoring Lavender she would realize he fancied her." Hermione exclaimed.

Ron shrugged and grinned sheepishly. Harry's mind was reeling. Ron? Lavender? Then that meant, then maybe…

"I just gave him some pointers." Hermione continued, more calmly now. "I told him to go up to her yesterday, after Potions class, and simply ask her if she'd like to go into Hogsmeade with him this weekend…"

"Yesterday? Af-after potions?" Harry mumbled.

"And what do you know? She said she would love to." Hermione smiled triumphantly. Ron nodded proudly. Harry felt his heart flutter and a genuine smile crawled across his face. The squeeze, the wink; Hermione had simply been wishing Ron luck, wishing Ron luck with asking out Lavender. Harry felt down right giddy, albeit a bit guilty. Yet, his entire mood had instantly lifted.

"Well, we ought to get started on our homework." Hermione said standing and swinging her bag over her shoulder. Ron groaned in protest, but stood up as well. Harry felt as though he floated up off the bench. Again, he followed his friends silently, a step behind. But this time it wasn't because he was feeling sorry for himself. Although, he quickly realized this new information had absolutely no bearing on Hermione's feelings for him. He was lost in thought when they reached the door to the common room.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked looking bored.

"Chocolate Liqueur." Ron mumbled and the frame swung open. Hermione was following Ron through when Harry's hand darted out and grabbed her arm. Harry was as startled as she was, looking down at his hand wrapped around her arm, betraying him. Suddenly words were flowing out of Harry uncontrollably.

"Would you want to go, uh, into Hogsmeade this weekend? With me?"

Hermione seemed to eye him for a moment then laughed.

"Of course. Just because Ron has a date doesn't mean we can't go."

"Right. Of course. Well.. good. Ok then." Harry released her arm and followed her into the Gryffindor common room. Slick, Harry he thought shaking his head.

Ron had already made himself comfortable on the couch across from the fire place and was pulling out a few pieces of parchment. Hermione took a spot on the floor and Harry sat on a big overstuffed chair to the left of Ron. He pulled the "Achievements in Charming" book and a piece of parchment out of his bag, deciding Flitwick's essay would be best to tackle first. Harry opened the book and found the chapter entitled "The Science of Silencing Charms". He began reading, but it wasn't long before his eyes began wandering off the page and down onto the floor. Hermione was writing neatly, pausing every few moments to flip through one of the books she had scattered around her. She stretched her arms over her head and yawned. Harry wasn't sure how long he had been watching her when Ron suddenly cleared his throat loudly. His stare was broken and his eyes met Ron's who raised his eyebrows and grinned knowingly. Harry quickly looked back down into his book, feeling his face grow warm wondering how long Ron had watched him stare at Hermione. Harry poised his quill thoughtfully over his paper. So far a single line of ink simply read "Silencing Charms are…". Harry's eyelids were suddenly feeling very heavy and it seemed the longer he stared at the pages of his Charm book, the less sense he was making of the words. After fifteen minutes he still hadn't added anything new to his essay and his self-control was waning; keeping his eyes averted from Hermione was proving to be particularly difficult. Giving up, he closed his book and yawned loudly.

"I think I'm going to call it a night." Harry announced, rising up from the chair. Ron immediately followed, slamming his book shut and popping up off the couch. Hermione's eyes remained glued to her work. Ron looked from her to Harry, shrugged and headed for the stairs to the boy's dormitories.

"Uh, well, goodnight." Harry stammered. Hermione waved without looking up.


	3. Chapter 3

[3 DREAMS & BACON

Hermione ran a single finger down along the middle of Harry's breastbone and then over his stomach. He felt his breath catch in his throat as she continued down past his belly button. He could feel him self throbbing, just a few inches below where her hand now rested on his abdomen. She was using her other arm to stay propped up over him, her eyes locked with his, and an evil "I know I'm in control" smile dashed across her face. It was a smile Harry had longed to see; longed to get to know. She began to slowly lower her head, inching her lips towards his. Harry was filled with an overwhelming urge to kiss her. Their lips brushed for a mere moment, before she pulled her head back quickly, giggling.

Goddamn tease.

In one fluid motion, Harry grabbed her around the waist and pulled her down under him as he propped himself up over her, switching their positions. She pouted playfully, causing Harry's nether region to pulsate so hard it was almost painful. Suddenly, her face became very serious and Harry worried for a moment that he had done something wrong. She began wriggling beneath him, pushing his legs over with hers, until he was positioned in between them. He studied her face, upon which that "I'm in control smile" had reappeared. The nod was so slight, Harry barely saw it, but it was a nod nonetheless. His stomach began to flip-flop in anticipation of what he was about to do. Years worth of anticipation were finally coming to a head. He licked his bottom lip, then mustered all his courage and longing into one, slow thrust and…

"Harry! Harry? Wake up!"

Harry's eyes snapped open. He felt disoriented and gazed around in the darkness, trying to get his bearings.

"Bloodly hell, Harry." Ron remarked, standing over his bed. "You were having some bad dream, moaning in your sleep like you were. You alright?"

Bad dream? Suddenly, out of the fog swirling in Harry's head, a picture of him self pressed against Hermione emerged. He was thankful the room was dark, or Ron certainly would have noticed the bright shade of red Harry's face had become.

"Yeah. Bad dream. Thanks." Harry's voice quivered. Ron shook his head and returned to his own bed, leaving Harry wide awake in the darkness trying to cling to the fading memory of his dream.

------------------

"Well, what were you doing last night when we were in the common room!?" Hermione exclaimed, waving a piece of toast in the air.

"Yeah, what were you doing?" Ron asked, jabbing his fork into a third sausage.

Harry shot him a look before continuing to frantically finish his essay for Flitwick. Hermione sighed and pulled the paper out from under him.

"Here. Give me your quill." She demanded impatiently and held out her hand. "You need to eat something before breakfast is over. You barely touched your dinner last night."

Harry opened his mouth to thank her, but she held up her hand.

"I know, I know. Just shush so I can finish this." Ron raised his eyebrows at Harry who ignored him. He instead focused is attention on filing his dish with eggs and bacon, suddenly aware that his appetite had finally returned. A few minutes later Hermione slid the now completed essay across the table to Harry, just as the class bell began to toll. Harry shoveled the last bits of egg on his plate into his mouth, just as the Great Hall's breakfast spread began to disappear.

"See you two later." Hermione said, hopping up and quickly joining the large group of students heading out of the Hall.

Ron groaned and hoisted him self up off the bench. Harry's eyes followed Hermione until he could no longer find her in the crowd.

"Well, have you told her?" Ron asked, watching Harry.

"What? Told who what?" Harry shoved his quill and the essay into his bag.

"Hermione of course…that you fancy her."

Harry threw his bag over his shoulder and looked at Ron incredulously. He could feel the flush rising in his cheeks and hoped desperately that Ron didn't notice.

"Me? Hermione? You're mad."

"Oh, come off it Harry. I see how you look at her." Ron puckered his lips and batted his eyelashes at Harry.

"You don't know what you're talking about." Harry shook his head. Ron shrugged.

"Tell her." Ron said, starting to make his towards the doors of the Great Hall.

"Nothing to tell."

"Tell her." Ron yelled now halfway across the room. Harry felt as though his feet had grown roots. He stood, watching Ron as he passed through the doors and out into the corridor, yelling one more "tell her" before turning the corner and going out of sight.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry paced, half dressed in the middle of the Gryffindor boy's dormitory. Ron leaned against his bedpost watching him.

"What are you doing?" Ron asked.

"I need a shirt." Harry answered distractedly as he began rummaging through his trunk.

"What's wrong with those?" Ron gestured around the room with his arm. Several of Harry's shirts had been haphazardly strewn on the floor and beds. Grabbing a dark blue jumper from his trunk, Harry stood and pulled it over his head.

"They we're, uh, no good." Harry mumbled, plucking up some of his discarded clothing and tossing it into his trunk.

"No good?"

"Yes, no good Ron. That's what I said."

"No good for your non-date with Hermione, who you don't fancy, you mean?" Ron said sarcastically and laughed. Harry glared at him.

"Shut up." Harry tossed a shirt at Ron's head. "What are you doing here anyways? Shouldn't you be meeting Lavender?" Ron shoved his hands into his pockets and kicked at the floor.

"She's, uh, feeling a bit under the weather." Ron replied, avoiding Harry's stare. Harry watched Ron for a moment and then burst into laughter.

"The thought of spending an afternoon in Hogsmeade with you made her ill?" Harry choked through his laughing fit.

"Aww, shut up Harry." Ron whined, tossing Harry's shirt back at him.

Harry changed once more before finally heading down the dormitory stairs and into the common room. Hermione was sitting on the couch waiting for him, idly thumbing through a book. Hearing Harry on the stairs, she looked up and flashed him a huge smile. Harry felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle and his mouth went dry.

"There you are!" she exclaimed, rising off the couch as he approached her. "And what are you still doing here?" she asked Ron, who had followed Harry down to the common room.

"Uh, Lavender isn't feeling well. She asked if I wouldn't mind going into Hogsmeade with her next weekend instead." Ron shrugged. Hermione nodded sympathetically. Harry covered a snicker with a cough.

"No matter. Let's go then, shall we?" Hermione motioned for the door. "You'll just come with us then, won't you Ron?" Harry's head whipped up so fast that his neck cracked. Ron looked slowly at him, then at Hermione.

"Nah, I think I'll just stay here." He said, shaking his head. Harry's heart had started thumping wildly in his chest. Hermione placed her hands on her hips.

"Oh come on. No one is going to be around and you'll be bored." Ron opened his mouth, and then closed it again. Harry's eyes darted between his two friends.

"I don't know. I think Harry would rather it just be you two." Harry glared at Ron, and felt his face get hot. Ron lifted his arms defensively.

"Don't be ridiculous Ronald, Harry doesn't care." Hermione looked at Harry expectantly. Harry sighed and felt disappointment surge through his body.

"Yeah, you should come" Harry mumbled. Hermione clapped her hands together.

"Now let's go already!"

Harry leaned carefully against a large, wooden book case. So far the trip to Hogsmeade had been just as eventful, or rather uneventful as every other trip they'd taken there. Ron had insisted on stopping in Honeydukes first where he bought the lot of licorice wands. Then they had stopped for a butterbeer at The Three Broomsticks, where they'd chatted about Quidditch. Now, they were in Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. Hermione had disappeared into the maze of shelves claiming she would just be a minute. A minute had stretched into fifteen and fifteen had stretched into thirty.

"What the bloody hell is taking her so long?" Ron groaned and slid down to the floor.

"If you we're just going to complain the whole time, you shouldn't have come." Harry snapped. Ron rolled his eyes.

"If you didn't want me to come you should have just said so."

"I didn't have a choice and you know it. Thanks, though. Really." Harry crossed his arms.

"So…you wanted to be alone with Hermione?" Ron asked matter-of-factly.

"I…well...I" Harry closed his mouth and lowered his head. He let out a sigh of exasperation.

"Admit it Harry. Admit it to yourself and then for Merlin's sake, admit it to her."

Harry turned his back to Ron and stared out the shop's front window. What does Ron know anyways, he thought with frustration. Suddenly, something across the way caught his eye. It was a shop he'd never been in before. Slowly, an idea began to blossom in his head. Forget it, he thought shaking his head. But something wasn't letting him drop the thought easily. He shuffled his feet and glanced at Ron who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, picking at his fingernails. Harry bit his lip.

"I'll be back."


	5. Chapter 5

**AUTHORS NOTES:**

Disclaimer: I know you saw this coming. I wonder if I did not put a disclaimer, would anyone really sue me? Anyhow, "Harry Potter" and all related material are not owned by me. After all, would I be writing fanfiction if they did? Said material is, however, owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and Scholastic Books. I neither own the English language, nor the concept of love and romance. I figure I better cover all my bases while I'm at it. The plot is mine. And since, unlike the creators and distributors of HP, I am not a multi-millionaire, I will take you to court if you steal it.

This is a Harry/Hermione shipping. If this is not your cup of tea, please click the [x in the right hand corner of the screen. I understand this is not canon. I don't care. One of my biggest goals in this story was to make Ron likable. Because of the R/HR animosity, most H/Hr fics portray Ron poorly. I, however, feel he can still be an interesting character and be a key part of the comic relief. Every author loves feedback. Being that I am the author, I would love some feedback. So bring on the comments and criticisms.

While the overall story is rated NC-17, the following chapter is rated PG. / Harry buys a gift for Hermione.

Harry hesitated with his hand on the doorknob of the shop. He took a deep breath and pushed it open. The soft tingling of a bell announced his presence. A large, pink-faced woman looked up from her spot behind the counter.

"Welcome to Bits and Bobbles! Can I help you with anything?" Harry gazed around the shop. There were huge glass cases that stretched from the floor to the ceiling and smaller glass cases that seemed to be floating in mid-air. Each case housed a different set of jewelry from giant diamond rings to glittering earrings to delicate bracelets and glowing pendants. Harry suddenly felt overwhelmed. He cleared his throat.

"Uh well…I'm looking for a gift. A gift for a friend. A girl. A girl friend…I-I mean, a girl who's my friend." Harry sputtered. The pink-faced woman gave a soft chuckle and nodded.

"Well you've come to the right place. We certainly have gifts…lots of gifts. Great gifts for friends…who are girls." She waddled out from behind the counter and gestured around with her arms. "Had anything in mind?"

Harry looked around the shop again, wondering where to start. He knew he didn't have a lot of time and the mere thought of Ron and Hermione coming to look for him was enough to makes his palms start to sweat. He moved towards the case closest to him and peered in. He eyed a few large, gaudy silver rings. I have lost my mind he thought to himself, moving on to the next case. The woman from behind the counter had joined him.

"How about a nice set of earrings?" the woman suggested. "We have an adorable pair that looks just like little quills." Harry shifted his weight back and forth on his feet. Earrings? Would she like earrings? Does she wear earrings? Does she even have her ears pierced? For all the time he spent looking at her, at the moment he had no idea whether or not she had ever worn earrings.

"Uh, well…" he glanced nervously out the shop's front window, terrified that he would see Ron and Hermione walking up.

"Or how about a bracelet?" the woman continued on to the next case. "We have a beautiful gold one that looks like a tangle of vines. It's enchanted to bloom tiny pink flowers and…" Harry was only half listening, beginning to think the whole idea was hopeless, when something caught his eye.

"What about that?" he said, pointing into one of the smaller cases. The pink-faced woman smiled.

"I think that's a great choice." She mumbled a spell and her arm passed right through the glass as if there was nothing but air separating them from the jewelry. She carefully pulled out Harry's selection and held it in front of his face. He ran his fingers over the smooth gold and nodded. She smiled again and made her way back to the counter. She hummed pleasantly as she placed it in a light pink box and tied it with a black bow. Harry set the correct amount of Galleons down on the counter and took the box from the woman. He slid it carefully into his pocket.

"Good luck!" the woman said with a grin.

Harry gave her a look of confusion.

"With the girl who's just a friend."

Harry smiled as he felt his face grow warm. He thanked her and headed out of the shop, fingering the box that rested in his pocket. He crossed back over to Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop, hoping his absence would be mostly missed. As he pulled the shop's door open, Ron and Hermione were making their way out.

"Harry! Where did you go? Sorry I took so long." Hermione apologized and shifted a large stack of books and parchment in her arms.

"Here. Let me carry those." Harry grabbed Hermione's purchases out of her arms without much protest.

"Thanks!" she smiled at him. Their eyes locked for just a moment and Harry could swear her cheeks turned the faintest pink.

"Back to Hogwarts?" Ron asked, breaking the connection between them. "I'm starved!" Hermione stared at him incredulously.

"How could you possibly be hungry? You just near cleared out Honeydukes. And you've still got chocolate on your face." Hermione giggled, pointing to his cheek.

"I'm a growing boy." Ron puffed out his chest and flexed his arms.

"Oh, you're growing alright." Hermione teased. "Only, you're growing wider, not taller." The three of them laughed. Harry was relieved that neither of his friends pressed the question of where he had been. As he walked, he could feel the pink box knocking against his thigh. He wanted to touch it, to hold it secretively inside his pocket, but his hands were full with Hermione's books, which, if he might add, we're quite heavy. He was out of breath when the finally reached the Gryffindor common room. Hermione thanked him again as he dumped the books onto the couch and then flopped down next to them. He slipped a hand into his pocket, making sure the box still rested there securely. Hermione took her usual spot on the floor and pulled a few of the books into her lap.

Neville appeared out from the staircase leading to the boy's dormitories.

"Have a good time in Hogsmeade?" he asked, joining them in the common room. Harry nodded.

"Great. If you don't count the hour we spent waiting for Hermione in Scrivenshaft's." Ron joked.

"Oh, it was not an hour you twit!" Hermione said sticking her tongue out at him. Neville laughed.

"Well, I'm heading down to dinner if anyone would like to join."

"Yes!" Ron clapped his hands together. Neville looked at Harry and Hermione.

"Thanks, Neville. I think I'm just going to stay here a bit and check out these books." Hermione said from her cross-legged position on the floor. Suddenly, Harry felt as though everyone was staring at him. Glancing around, he realized they were. He swallowed and instinctively clutched the box in his pocket.

"I think I'm going to stay here too." he answered.

"More for me!" Ron said, throwing Harry a wink before turning and heading for the door with Neville.

Harry ran his hands through his dark rumpled mess off hair. Looking around the common room, he realized he was finally alone with Hermione. He tilted his head thoughtfully as he watched her on the floor, flipping through pages of her books, pausing occasionally to scribble something on a piece of parchment. He couldn't stop the smile that stretched across his face as she bit her bottom lip and tucked her hair behind her ear; something she always did when she was concentrating hard. She looked up at him.

"What are you laughing about?"

"Nothing. I'm not laughing." Harry answered quickly, letting the smile fade from his face. She studied him for a moment.

"You sure are acting odd lately, Harry Potter." she said, shaking her finger at him playfully.

"Am not." he said defensively. "What are you doing anyways?" He gestured at the book sitting open in her lap.

"Oh, I found this in the quill shop. It's a Calligraphy book."

"A what?" Harry slid down off the couch and scooted next to her on the floor. "Let me see." She passed him the book.

"What do you need this for?" he asked, flipping through the pages. "You already know how to write perfectly well." He twisted the book, looking at the examples of delicate, flowing lettering.

"Yes, but this shows you how to make your writing elegant." she said, taking the book back from him. Harry didn't really understand the whole concept. Personally, he could care less about the state of his writing, which fell just short of chicken-scratch. As long as his professors could read it, it was perfectly fine to him.

"Well, however you try to impress Professor Snape is your business I s'pose." Harry smirked at her.

"Shut up, Harry!" she cried and attempted to give him a hard shove with both hands. Automatically, Harry grabbed her wrists to avoid the blow. She laughed and tried to pull away, but he held his grip tightly. Her laughter rose to a high-pitched giggle.

"Harry! Let go!" She shook her hands and tried to bump him with her shoulder, which he twisted to avoid. She pulled her face into a pout. It was the same pout she'd used in his dream; the same pout that she'd used when he'd pulled her underneath him. Right before he'd… He suddenly dropped her hands as though he had been burned. He looked away, terrified that his eyes might project the scene that had been playing in his head. Hermione took the opportunity to jab him in the arm.

Harry felt uneasy. He was on uncommon ground; way out of his element. These feelings were so unfamiliar and the uncharted territory he was slowly crossing over into was ominous. All the words his mind began to conjure up seemed awkward and inadequate. What could he possibly say to her? Nothing. He felt foolish. I've battled the Dark Lord, damn it, but I can't tell a girl how I feel, he thought pitifully. But, he knew, this wasn't just a girl. This was Hermione. Hermione, who had spent countless hours by his side in the library while he'd prepared for the Tri-wizard Tournament; Hermione, who had finished endless amounts of homework for him; Hermione, who had helped him free his godfather, Sirius Black, and prove his innocence.

Harry looked out one of the large common room windows. The sun was just beginning to dip down into the horizon and a soft breeze was ruffling through the trees. He needed to gain some control. He felt vulnerable sitting alone with Hermione, inches from her on the common room floor, surrounded by books.

"Quidditch." Harry mumbled, still gazing out the windows.

"What?" Hermione tilted her head.

"Quidditch." Harry said louder and turned to face her. "Let's go outside… let's play."

Hermione shook her head and laughed.

"Oh, come on." Harry exclaimed, rising to his feet.

"Harry, have you gone mad? I'm rubbish at Qudditch, you know that. Not to mention, I prefer my feet planted firmly on the ground, thank you. Besides, it will be dark soon and we aren't allowed to be out of the castle after dark."

"There's plenty of light left. Get up,get up!" Harry held out his hand. She continued to protest, but took it and he pulled her up off the floor.

"Oh, alright!" Hermione sighed in resignation and allowed Harry to pull her out into the corridor.


	6. Chapter 6

**AUTHORS NOTES:**

Disclaimer: I know you saw this coming. I wonder if I did not put a disclaimer, would anyone really sue me? Anyhow, "Harry Potter" and all related material are not owned by me. After all, would I be writing fanfiction if they did? Said material is, however, owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and Scholastic Books. I neither own the English language, nor the concept of love and romance. I figure I better cover all my bases while I'm at it. The plot is mine. And since, unlike the creators and distributors of HP, I am not a multi-millionaire, I will take you to court if you steal it.

This is a Harry/Hermione shipping. If this is not your cup of tea, please click the [x in the right hand corner of the screen. I understand this is not canon. I don't care. One of my biggest goals in this story was to make Ron likable. Because of the R/HR animosity, most H/Hr fics portray Ron poorly. I, however, feel he can still be an interesting character and be a key part of the comic relief. Every author loves feedback. Being that I am the author, I would love some feedback. So bring on the comments and criticisms.

While the overall story is rated NC-17, the following chapter is rated PG.

Harry walked out from the Gryffindor locker room carrying with him two brooms and a small, latched box. Hermione was stretched out on the grass, propped up by her elbows. Harry dropped one of the brooms down beside her and raised his eyebrows.

"Maybe I'll just watch." she said, looking nervously at the broom. Harry shook his head. He placed the box gently down onto the ground and flicked open the latch. The lid popped open and a small blur of gold shot into the air. It was only seconds before the Snitch had zoomed off out of sight. Again, he held his hand out to her and again she took it, allowing him to pull her to her feet. Harry cleared his throat.

"OK. There are three very important rules to remember when flying. Rule number one," Harry said, grasping the second broom, "is hold on. Always keep at least one hand held firmly to the broom. It is the absolute only way to stay in control."

Hermione nodded seriously.

"Rule number two. Always look where you are going. Always know your surroundings. Wouldn't want you flying right into the Whomping Willow, now would we?" Harry laughed as Hermione bit her lip, her eyes filling with fear. Harry tossed a leg over the broom in his hands and slid back. She watched him, glancing back at the castle nervously.

"Well, get on." Harry said, patting the broom handle in front of him.

"Harry…I don't think…" Hermione wrung her hands anxiously.

"Hermione. Get on." Harry repeated, sternly. She hesitated for a moment before awkwardly throwing her leg over the broom. Harry grabbed her around the waist with one arm and slid her back against him. He wasn't sure where he was pulling this confidence from, but he was going to go with it for as long as it lasted.

"Ready?" he asked, preparing to push off from the ground.

"Harry wait." She twisted around to look at him. Harry became suddenly aware of how close their faces were. Her brown eyes were wide and fearful, her bottom lip quivering just the slightest bit. But, their faces weren't the only things that Harry keenly noticed were close; Hermione's arse was pushed tightly to his crotch and it was taking all the self-control he had to keep himself from hardening against her.

"What?" he asked quickly, eager for the distraction of flying.

"You said there were three important rules. Number one was hold on and number two was look where you are going. But, what's three?"

Harry smiled.

"Number three is relax. Don't be afraid. Relax, don't be afraid and trust me."

Hermione's brown eyes seemed to bear down into his and her lip stopped quivering. She took a deep breath and turned back to face forward.

"Alright," she sighed, attempting to inflict all the confidence she could. "Alright. Let's go."

Harry pushed off from the ground firmly, sending them soaring up into the air. Hermione squealed and he felt her push herself harder back against him. He felt a jolt of pleasure surge through his body, almost causing his eyes to roll back into his head. He pulled the broom up, causing them to climb higher and higher until the pitch below them was a tiny smear of green. He couldn't see Hermione's face, but he imagined her eyes were scrunched tightly shut. He laughed to himself. They flew easily up over the castle. Harry zigzagged around the towers and under the Hogwart's Express bridge. They soared over the trees of the Forbidden Forest and Harry dipped down low as they flew over the lake so that their feet almost touched the water. Suddenly, out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw something flash brightly, catching the last few rays of sunlight peeking over the horizon. Harry recognized it immediately as the Snitch and jerked the broom in its direction. Hermione gasped with the sudden movement.

"Look. There!" Harry said pointing towards the shiny golden ball. "Hold on!"

"Harry! No!" Hermione protested, but Harry leaned his chest against her back, flattening them both against the broom handle and increasing their speed. Harry followed after the Snitch, twisting through the air. Hermione screamed out in fear as they nosedived towards the grass.

"Grab it!" Harry yelled, the sound of the wind whistling passed his ears.

"What!?" Hermione called.

"The Snitch! Grab it!" They now matched the tiny, golden sphere's speed as it raced through the air.

"Harry, I can't. I-I can't."

"You can! It's right there. Just reach for it."

For a moment she didn't move and Harry held his breath. Then, slowly, she began to lift one timid hand up off the broomstick.

"You better hang onto me, Harry Potter." she cried in an uneven voice. Harry tightly gripped her waist with one arm, expertly maneuvering the broom with the other. He leaned his mouth to her ear.

"Hermione, I will not let go. You'll be fine. Now reach!" She seemed to jump slightly and her arm extended out in front of the broom. She stretched forward, gripping the broom handle tightly with her other hand. Her body slid slightly forward and she gasped, but her arm remained outstretched towards the gleaming Snitch. Suddenly, her fingers grazed its smooth surface. She lunged her upper body forward, pulling Harry with her. She cried out, but this time not in fear. She twisted around on the broom and faced Harry, who gently slowed them down. Her hand was tightly clenched into a fist, which she slowly released. A flicker of gold shone through her fingers. Harry looked from the Snitch in her hand to her face. Her eyes were wide and her mouth hung open slightly; no trace of fear remained. Harry grinned.

"I-I did it." she whispered. "I-I caught the Snitch." Harry nodded and a smile crept triumphantly across her face. Suddenly, she threw her arms around his neck and pressed her mouth against his. Her lips were dry and cold from the wind. Harry tried to pull her against him harder, while still keeping his grasp on the broom. He wanted this moment to last forever; here, above the pitch, perched precariously in the air with Hermione against him for the rest of time. But all too soon she pulled away, her eyes gently probing his. Harry's mind raced; searching for something, anything witty or charming he could possibly say. He opened his mouth slowly.

"Hermione. You're breaking rule number one."

"You're right. Sorry." Her face turned pink and she quickly forwarded herself, regaining a grip on the broom. Harry closed his mouth. If he wasn't suspended feet from the ground right now, he would have surely kicked himself. Twice, actually. Just for good measure. He sighed sadly and slowly steered the broom back to the ground. His feet landed on the grass with a thud. Hermione slid silently off the handle; her legs wobbling slightly. She seemed to take a few deep breaths before turning to face Harry, having regained her composure.

"That was brilliant, Harry." she said softly. She held out her hand to him and he reached to meet it. She gently placed the Snitch into his palm, then dropped her arms to her side. Harry stood dumbfounded, straddling the broom. He had to say something. He had to let her know that he had waited years to kiss her; that he had never imagined it could have been so perfect (and that he had done a lot of imagining). But, nothing came out. She hesitated, then slowly turned and began heading towards the castle. Harry stood watching the very last sliver of sun fade. He knew now that he had gotten Hermione the most perfect gift this afternoon in Hogmeade. He couldn't have planned it better if he'd tried. The only questions remaining now were when, or even if, he would ever be able to give it to her.


	7. Chapter 7

**AUTHORS NOTES:**

Disclaimer: I know you saw this coming. I wonder if I did not put a disclaimer, would anyone really sue me? Anyhow, "Harry Potter" and all related material are not owned by me. After all, would I be writing fanfiction if they did? Said material is, however, owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and Scholastic Books. I neither own the English language, nor the concept of love and romance. I figure I better cover all my bases while I'm at it. The plot is mine. And since, unlike the creators and distributors of HP, I am not a multi-millionaire, I will take you to court if you steal it.

This is a Harry/Hermione shipping. If this is not your cup of tea, please click the [x in the right hand corner of the screen. I understand this is not canon. I don't care. One of my biggest goals in this story was to make Ron likable. Because of the R/HR animosity, most H/Hr fics portray Ron poorly. I, however, feel he can still be an interesting character and be a key part of the comic relief. Every author loves feedback. Being that I am the author, I would love some feedback. So bring on the comments and criticisms.

While the overall story is rated NC-17, the following chapter is rated NC-17. / Harry struggles with his feelings for Hermione.

Hermione's arse pushed up against his crotch, pulled away and then bumped up back against him. "What is she doing?" he thought, switching his grip on the broom. He watched her as they hovered several hundred feet off the ground. She was sliding herself up and down the broom handle, grinding her hips against the thin piece of wood between her legs. "Bloody hell!" Harry felt himself harden, but his denim trousers didn't offer enough room and he winced in pain. Hermione's breath started to become audible as she sucked in ragged gulps, her hips starting to slide back and forth faster. Harry snaked his free hand around to the front of her, gently moving his fingers beneath her skirt. He quickly discovered she had forgone underwear. She was in control. She was always in control. Even here, in the air, in Harry's territory, she was still in control. He slid his thumb softly against her wetness. She moaned softly and leaned back into his chest, struggling to spread her legs wider against his touch. He easily found the center of her pleasure; the little button was hard and throbbed against his fingers. He circled it slowly and she bucked against him with a high pitched squeak. He began to move faster and she squirmed, breathing in heavy pants. Harry closed his eyes.

"Harry…" she sighed. He was now moving his fingers against her as fast as he could. She moaned loudly, hungrily, and he could tell that she was close.

"Harry…"

She was flowing, warm and sticky, all over his hand. He wondered what she tasted like.

"Harry." Her hips slowed. This is it he thought. He felt himself push painfully against the constraints of his jeans, refusing to be ignored.

"Harry!"

Confusion clouded his head. That wasn't the tone he'd expected to hear. It was stern and frightened, not silky or passionate.

"Harry!" she cried fearfully again. "Harry! The Whomping Willow! Rule number two! Harry, open your eyes."

Harry's eyes flew open and his heart thumped loudly in his chest. He was greeted by darkness as he twisted around frantically. His heart slowed and he gradually got his bearings. He was in the Gryffindor dormitory. To his right, Ron was snoring noisily. Harry rubbed his face with the back of his hands and sighed. He pulled the covers back and sat up, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. The wood beneath his feet was cold and hard. He pushed himself up and strode quietly over to his dresser. He cringed when the top drawer squeaked as he slowly pulled it open. After making sure no one had been woken, he stuck his hand inside, groping around in the darkness until he felt the item he was searching for against his fingers. He pulled the pink box out and stared down at it.

She kissed me, he thought. She got lost in the moment and she kissed me. And it was perfect. "Until you had to open your mouth, you git." Harry's mind growled. "And then, you let her walk away. You let her walk away, probably feeling embarrassed and foolish. You had the perfect opportunity to tell her how you feel and you let her walk away. Good job Harry. Good fucking job." Harry closed his eyes and sighed. He placed the pink box gently back into the dresser drawer and closed it.

"So, have you taken my advice yet?" Ron asked as he and Harry walked side by side out onto the grounds of Hogwarts towards Hagrid's hut.

"What advice was that again?"

"Tell Hermione how you feel. Shit, practically everyone except her knows already."

"Everyone?" Harry echoed.

"Well, me."

Harry sighed loudly and rolled his eyes.

"It's not that easy Ron."

Ron stopped walking and grinned.

"Ah ha! So you admit it! You fancy Hermione."

Harry turned and stared at him incredulously.

"What do you mean "ah ha"? I thought "everyone" knew already."

Ron shrugged.

"I don't know. I guess I wasn't really expecting you to admit it."

"Ron. You are a complete arse."

They reached the small stone cottage, just as Hagrid was coming out the door. His arms were filled with large green leafy balls that looked like giant cabbages.

"'Ello 'Arry. Ron." Hagrid boomed, nodding a welcome to both boys.

"Need a hand with those…uh…?" Harry asked, gesturing at the mound of greens Hagrid held.

"Crysthblooms." Hagrid finished. "Sure. If yeh don' mind getting' yer hands dirty. Ron, yeh grab tha' shovel." Harry grabbed a ball of foliage from Hagrid and Ron retrieved the shovel that was leaning against the side of the hut. They followed Hagrid around the garden and down to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Immediately the light fall air became dark and thick.

"We'll plant 'em jus' in here." Hagrid put the Crysthblooms down onto the forest floor and took the shovel from Ron. "I'll dig. You just place em in the hole an' cover them up half way with dirt." Harry and Ron nodded and they went to work.

Harry was silent as Ron and Hagrid chatted about dragons and Mr. Weasley's latest Muggle interest. As hard as he tried he couldn't stop the memory of him and Hermione's kiss from replaying in his head. With each remembrance he felt himself getting angrier and angrier. He pounded at the ground. Ron eyed him carefully.

"Say, Hagrid. What do you know about women?" Ron asked, pushing dirt around a Crysthbloom with his hands.

"A lot less than I know 'bout Unicorns an' Hinkypunks." Hagrid chuckled. "Why yeh ask?"

"Well, it seems our friend Harry here could use a little direction." Ron laughed.

"Ron…" Harry groaned. Hagrid planted the shovel into the ground forcefully and leaned against it.

"No need ter be ashamed 'Arry. Natural, yeh know. Startin' ter fancy girls an' all."

"Oh, but this isn't just any girl, Hagrid. Harry fancies Hermione." Ron whooped.

"Ron! Shut. Up." Harry yelled angrily, throwing a Crysthbloom down into one of the holes Hagrid had dug.

"What? You do, don't you?" Ron held up his hands defensively. Harry shook his head and stood, wiping the dirt from his palms on the front of his robes. He glared at Ron before storming out of the forest. Ron shrugged at Hagrid apologetically.

"I can finish up here." Hagrid smiled. Ron nodded, said goodbye and hurried after Harry.

Harry flopped down onto his bed and threw an arm over his eyes. A few minutes later he heard footsteps pounding up the dormitory stairs and Ron emerged, out of breath. Harry made a show of turning his back to him.

"Oh come on you twit." Ron breathed, moving to stand over Harry.

"This is a joke to you, isn't it? Well, it's not a joke to me. It's not funny at all." Harry turned back to Ron, clenching his fists at his sides.

"Bollocks Harry! I'm trying to help." Ron cried in exasperation.

"Help?" Harry snorted. "Help? I screwed everything up perfectly well myself this time. Without your help for once."

Ron opened his mouth, then closed it again. He sighed and started to turn for the door.

"She kissed me. She kissed me and I made an arse out of myself." Harry buried his head in his hands. Ron turned back to his visually distraught friend slowly.

"She kissed you?" Ron repeated quietly. Harry nodded, without picking up his face. Ron took a deep breath and moved back into the room. He sunk down next to Harry on the bed.

"Well, when did she kiss you?" Ron asked.

"Yesterday. After you went to dinner, we went outside to play Quidditch…" 

"Quidditch?" Ron interrupted. "Hermione is terrible at Quidditch. And terrified of flying." Harry nodded.

"I know, I know. But, that's what we did. And, I guess, one thing lead to another and she kissed me. And I didn't say anything. Or, actually, I did say something. Something idiotic. And then I didn't say anything else. And then she walked away."

"Hmm." Ron offered. "Well, at least she did kiss you, mate. That's gotta mean something." Ron nudged Harry gently in the ribs with his elbow. Harry smiled weakly at his friend.

"You know what," Ron continued, "I bet she's feeling foolish right now. Foolish, because she's thinking you don't feel the way she feels about you. She kissed you and didn't get the response she thought she would; the response she hoped she would. There's definitely something going on there and I think the best thing you could possibly do now, is tell her the truth. Tell her how you really feel." Harry stared at the ground thoughtfully. Ron waited a few moments before getting to his feet and silently heading for the door.

"Ron." Ron froze with one foot on the steps down to the common room. "Thanks." Harry whispered. Ron smiled to himself and continued down the stairs.

"Harry! Harder!"

Harry could feel sweat pooling between his shoulder blades. His breath was shallow and labored and he could feel the sharp sting of Hermione's nails digging into his back. He was propped up over her, bracing himself on his arms which were locked out, one on each side of her head. Her face was screwed up in pleasure as his hips thrust him back and forth inside of her. She bit her bottom lip and sighed. Her huge brown eyes locked into his green ones, coaxing him on even though the muscles in his legs burned with exhaustion. He made his movements slower, but more deliberate; pushing into her as far as he could go. She moaned loudly and arched her back.

"Go. Don't stop."

Harry smiled as he continued to slide in and out of her. Voldemort himself could not stop me right now Harry thought, taking in Hermione's perfectly curved body beneath him. Her breasts bounced with the force of his thrusts. He lowered his head and carefully took one of her perfect, pink nipples into his mouth. She let out a throaty sigh. Suddenly, a dark shadow stretched across the bed. Harry's head whipped up. Ron stood over them with his arms crossed over his chest.

"See, Harry. Aren't you glad you told her?"

When Harry's eyes popped open, he knew that he'd be surrounded by darkness in the Gryffindor boy's dormitory. He knew Hermione would not be with him, and, thankfully, Ron would not be standing over the bed. Still, his heart was beating wildly. He groaned and stared up at the ceiling. The memory of his dream still throbbed below his waist. He contemplated relieving himself, but the vision of Ron standing above him was burned into the back of his eyelids. Slowly his arousal waned. He glanced at his dresser. Just leave it Harry. You know it's still in there. And, you know it's probably going to be in there for the remainder of the school year.

"Shut up." he said into the darkness. He tore his blankets off and quietly walked up to his dresser, pulling open the top drawer. For a few seconds he dug around, unable to locate the small pink box and panic crept up into his chest. A few deep breaths and a moment later his fingers grazed soft ribbon. He picked up the box and stared at it. He slid the black ribbon off slowly, trying carefully to preserve the perfectly tied bow, and flipped the top open. It was the first time he'd looked at his gift since he'd purchased it. He studied it; ran his fingers softly over it. A loud snore from Ron made him jump and he snapped the box shut, pinching his skin in the process.

"Fuck." he cursed softly, bringing his finger to his mouth. He slid the black ribbon back into place and placed the box back into the dresser.

"Just act normal."

Harry combed his fingers through his messy black hair and rolled his eyes. He hadn't seen Hermione since she'd left him out on the Quidditch pitch and the anticipation of breakfast together this morning was not going unnoticed by Harry's nerves. Ron was sitting on his bed, watching Harry pull on his third change of clothes.

"This?" Harry asked, looking expectantly at Ron. Ron sighed.

"Harry, your clothes will practically be hidden under your robes all day anyways."

"Just because you don't care what you're wearing under your robes…" Harry began, starting to pull on his shoes.

"And Hermione won't care what's on under yours either." Ron interrupted. "Actually, now that I think about it, she probably fantasizes you're starkers under there." Harry threw a shoe at Ron, who caught it with ease. Both boys laughed. Ron tossed the shoe back at Harry who pulled it on and stood up.

"Ok. I think I'm ready."

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed. "I'm…"

"Starving?" Harry offered. The boys laughed again and headed down the stairs. Hermione was usually waiting for them in the common room in the mornings. She would either be sitting on the sofa studying or standing in front of the fireplace with her hands impatiently placed on her hips. This morning, however, the Gryffindor common room was empty. Harry felt his heart sink just slightly.

"She probably left without us. I mean, you took long enough changing your clothes and all." Ron looked at Harry carefully.

"Yeah. She's probably already there." Harry said half-heartedly. They walked quickly down the corridor. Harry silently prayed that Hermione would be sitting in their usual spot, eating her customary toast with jam and re-reading her homework. He imagined her looking up and berating them for taking so long, before resigning to a soft smile and asking if they'd finished their homework. As they passed through the huge wooden doors of the Hall, Harry's eyes immediately found their usual seats which, to his dismay, were completely empty.

"Well…she's not here." Ron sighed, taking his spot at the table.

"Really?" Harry asked sarcastically.

"Don't worry about it, mate. She'll have no choice but to see you in class. Even if she completely hates you and loathes the very sound of your name, Hermione would never miss a class."

"Comforting, Ron. Thanks." Harry shook his head. Ron shrugged and began piling food onto his plate. Harry miserably sipped some orange juice. He needed to make this right. He needed to tell her the truth.


	8. Chapter 8

**AUTHORS NOTES:**

Disclaimer: I know you saw this coming. I wonder if I did not put a disclaimer, would anyone really sue me? Anyhow, "Harry Potter" and all related material are not owned by me. After all, would I be writing fanfiction if they did? Said material is, however, owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and Scholastic Books. I neither own the English language, nor the concept of love and romance. I figure I better cover all my bases while I'm at it. The plot is mine. And since, unlike the creators and distributors of HP, I am not a multi-millionaire, I will take you to court if you steal it.

This is a Harry/Hermione shipping. If this is not your cup of tea, please click the [x in the right hand corner of the screen. I understand this is not canon. I don't care. One of my biggest goals in this story was to make Ron likable. Because of the R/HR animosity, most H/Hr fics portray Ron poorly. I, however, feel he can still be an interesting character and be a key part of the comic relief. Every author loves feedback. Being that I am the author, I would love some feedback. So bring on the comments and criticisms.

I just want to thank everyone for the lovely reviews. I am so glad that you are all enjoying the story. There are many more twists and turns to come, so be prepared!! I also just want to say that with exams and the holidays I have been quite busy which is why the updates have been less frequent. I keep a 3 chapter cushion in place [meaning I always have 3 more chapters than I've posted already written. After the holidays I will be able to really focus on finishing the fic and the updates will once again be frequent. Thank you for being patient and understanding. KEEP READING AND REVIEWING! Happy holidays to all. :

While the overall story is rated NC-17, the following chapter is rated PG.

When Harry and Ron walked into their first class of the day, History of Magic, Hermione was already in her seat, just as Ron had predicted. She seemed fully engrossed in the book open on the desk in front of her. The boys took their own seats, a few yards behind and to the left of hers, and took out their books. Harry breathed a sigh of relief.

"See," Ron said and nodded toward Hermione, "there she is. I told you. Now's your chance, Harry. Go!"

Harry forced a weak smile. His chest became heavy with anxiousness and tight with fear. I wonder if this is how Hermione feels on a broomstick, he thought.

"What are you waiting for?" Ron hissed. Harry's eyes darted back and forth between Ron and the back of Hermione's head. Make this right Harry, his mind chided.

"I don't know, Ron. I mean, she seems…busy." Harry grasped. 

Ron stared at him.

"Harry. If you do not get your arse…"

"Ok! Ok!" Harry held his hands up defensively.

He glanced around the room; most students were either chatting or reading and Professor Binns didn't seem to be in yet. Harry sucked in a huge breath of air and slowly rose from his seat. Ron smiled and nodded encouragingly. Harry swallowed hard. Suddenly, the short aisle to Hermione's desk seemed to stretch for miles. Harry slowly began dragging his feet, inching his way towards her. Closer, closer; his heart thumping loudly in his chest with each step. Finally, when he had closed the gap between them, he reached his arm out, the same way she had reached for the Snitch, and his fingers grazed her shoulder. She jumped from his unexpected touch and let out a yelp of surprise. Her reaction startled Harry who quickly drew back his arm.

"Harry!" she breathed, clutching her arms to her chest. "What…"

"Mr. Harry Potter! Take your seat please!" a dry voice from behind him wheezed. He spun around to face the speaker, whom he'd already identified as Professor Binns.

"Uh..yes sir." Harry answered, quickly moving to the side of the aisle. Professor Binns was the only professor at Hogwarts who was a ghost, and while the feeling of a spectral being passing through the body was an extremely unpleasant one for the living, the ghosts themselves did not mind it one bit. Harry knew better than to block the way. After Professor Binns had passed him, he slunk quietly back to his desk and sunk down into his chair, without looking at Hermione.

"So?" Ron whispered.

Harry shook his head.

"Aw, I'm sorry mate. Women! Foul I tell you! They think…"

"No, Ron, I didn't even get to talk to her." Harry interrupted. "I tapped her on the shoulder and then…"

"Mr. Potter. If you would please bring your conversation with Mr. Weasley to a close, I'd like to start class. If that's alright with you, of course." Professor Binns stared at him over thick, wire-rimmed glasses. Harry nodded sheepishly.

The History of Magic always seemed to be a never ending class. Professor Binns' dry, raspy voice would quickly began to grate on one's nerves and the subject matter itself was about as exciting as watching Polyjuice potion brew. Today, however, class was rapidly coming to a close, much to Harry's dismay. Instead of listening to Professor Binns drone on about the first owl post, he had been focusing on his situation with Hermione. He decided that he would wait for her after class, out in the corridor. He was surprised at how confident he felt about his plan, but he noticed that as the time to carry it out drew closer, the less convinced he was about his abilities to follow through. By the time Professor Binns began announcing their homework, he was sweating. Ron closed his book with a slam and Harry jumped a foot off his chair.

"Are you alright?" Ron asked, looking at Harry seriously.

"Fine. A bit on edge is all. I'm going to do it. I am going to talk to Hermione. I have to. I have to? Right?"

Ron sighed and patted his friend on the shoulder. Harry looked around and noticed that everyone had begun packing up their things. He quickly shoved his books into his bag, nodded to Ron, who shot him a thumbs up, and headed for the door. He tried to steady his breathing with each step. I can do this, his mind repeated. I can do this, I can do this, I can…"

"Wait just a minute, Mr. Potter."

Harry froze. He sighed and then slowly spun around on the balls of his feet.

"Could you come up to my desk for a moment? I'd like to have a few words."

Harry looked at Professor Binns. He felt the last bit of confidence he'd been clutching drain from his chest. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione toss her bag over her shoulder and head out of the classroom. He turned to look at Ron who shook his head sympathetically, then followed the rest of the students into the corridor. Harry's shoulders sagged as he walked up to the front of the room.

"Mr. Potter, I understand that The History of Magic does not appeal to you. But, I will have you know that its subject matter is just as important as that of potion-making and spells." Harry resisted the urge to snort. "Your work in my class is declining and wizard hero or not, it is my duty as a Professor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to be sure you are proficiently knowledgeable in Magical History." Harry sensed contempt in Professor Binns voice. He also strongly disagreed that knowing who discovered Sopophorous beans was as important as learning how to use them to make, say, Draught of Living Death. These observations were adding to the hot anger that had already begun to boil in his stomach. He had been so prepared, so ready to talk to Hermione; to tell her the truth. He kept these thoughts to himself and instead nodded apologetically.

"I'll work harder, Professor."

Professor Binns replied with a cut nod. He seemed satisfied.

"You may go."

Harry took his time crossing the room. There was no reason to rush anymore anyways. He felt defeated. And, he noticed, he felt exhausted. All these emotional highs and lows were quite draining. It's obviously not meant to be, he thought pitifully. I'll just tell Ron it just isn't meant to be. He hung his head as he left the classroom. In fact, he had been looking at his feet, which is why he hadn't noticed her leaning against the wall of the corridor, tugging at a strand of bushy, brown hair anxiously, just outside of the room.

"Harry?"

Harry's head snapped up and he spun to face the small voice. Hermione's eyes were huge, brown orbs staring back at him as she pushed away from the wall. Immediately, Harry felt his throat become thick and cottony. His stomach flipped over and his palms became slick.

"Hermione? But-but, what are you…how are you?"

Her face was blank as she carefully took a step towards him.

"Ron." she offered. "Ron…he asked me to wait for you. He said it was important."

Harry watched her as she spoke. Despite the extreme nervousness overwhelming him at the moment, had Ron been standing next to him, he could have kissed him. Yet, painfully silent seconds followed. Harry shifted back and forth on his feet. Finally, taking a deep breath, he plunged.

"Hermione…about the other day, out on the pitch…I-"

Her face immediately flushed and she immediately launched into a carefully practiced defense.

"Oh, Harry…I feel so foolish. I mean it was the rush of catching the snitch and…"

"Wait…no, Hermione…"

"…and I got caught in the moment and…"

"…listen…Hermione…stop…Hermione…" Harry was growing impatient. She barreled on, refusing to let him get a word in. She would not stop talking; she would not listen. She was making excuses and now she was asking him to forgive her. Shut the fuck up and hear what I have to say, Harry thought, exasperated. He was tired; he was frustrated. And then suddenly his lips were crushing hers, forcing them into silence. Harry couldn't remember actually making the decision to kiss her, but here he was, pinning her body against the stoned wall of the corridor with his own and pressing his mouth to hers. For a brief second his chest tightened as he imagined her pushing him away in disgust, but the thought dissolved as he felt her hand reach up and softly cup the side of his face. Yet, a new fear quickly replaced the aforementioned one – the fear of someone walking out into the corridor and seeing them snog. Harry pulled slowly away from Hermione, keeping his eyes closed until he had fully retracted from her. Then he let them flutter open, as though waking from a dream and looked at her. She stood, still pressed against the corridor, her eyes wider than Harry had ever seen them. Her face was pink and her chest rose with each breath she took. Best of all, Harry noticed, she was silent. He cleared his throat.

"I don't want you to apologize. I don't want you to be sorry. I want you to have kissed me because you wanted to. I want you to want to kiss me. I want you to want to kiss me today. I want you to want to kiss me tomorrow. Because, Hermione, I've wanted to kiss you for longer than you can imagine and I know that I'll want to kiss you everyday for the rest of my life." By the time Harry finished, his voice was shaking. She hadn't moved, but her face had changed. Just like in his dreams, she was in control; she was always in control. Although she was trying to stay serious, the corners of her mouth were upturned revealing the hint of a smile and her eyes sparkled under a fan of fluttering eyelashes. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Instead, they just looked at each other. Harry could hear his heart pounding wildly. He was sure she could hear it too. His knees felt weak and his jaw clenched and unclenched feverously. Finally, Hermione stepped away from the wall. She licked her bottom lip then opened her mouth.

"Can we go somewhere?"


	9. Chapter 9

**AUTHORS NOTES:**

Disclaimer: I know you saw this coming. I wonder if I did not put a disclaimer, would anyone really sue me? Anyhow, "Harry Potter" and all related material are not owned by me. After all, would I be writing fanfiction if they did? Said material is, however, owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and Scholastic Books. I neither own the English language, nor the concept of love and romance. I figure I better cover all my bases while I'm at it. The plot is mine. And since, unlike the creators and distributors of HP, I am not a multi-millionaire, I will take you to court if you steal it.

This is a Harry/Hermione shipping. If this is not your cup of tea, please click the [x in the right hand corner of the screen. I understand this is not canon. I don't care. One of my biggest goals in this story was to make Ron likable. Because of the R/HR animosity, most H/Hr fics portray Ron poorly. I, however, feel he can still be an interesting character and be a key part of the comic relief. Every author loves feedback. Being that I am the author, I would love some feedback. So bring on the comments and criticisms.

While the overall story is rated NC-17, the following chapter is rated NC-17.

Harry was filled with excitement and nervousness and relief and fear all at the same time as he pulled Hermione by the hand out of the castle and into the cool, crisp autumn air. He continued pulling her across the grass until they reached the Quidditch pitch and then he released her.

"Just wait here." Harry instructed. She nodded. Harry knew the odds of them receiving unexpected visitors were slim. Quidditch season was over, so no teams would be showing up. The likelihood of a few ambitious players coming to put in some extra practice was extremely low, since it was the middle of a school day and a bit on the chilly side. But, still, Harry felt it couldn't hurt to give the place a once over. He passed through the familiar doors of the locker room and looked around. Everything was quiet and the place was, as he expected, empty. He sighed heavily then retraced his steps to where Hermione stood, waiting, twirling strands of brown hair around her fingers.

"Ok. All clear."

Hermione seemed to be having second thoughts, as she glanced back at the castle. Harry held his breath. She's going to say this is a mistake. She's going to go back to the castle. Harry's mind taunted him. He grabbed her hand anxiously and pulled softly. She hesitated a moment more then flashed Harry a smile and allowed him to pull her into the locker room. She sat down on the bench in the center of the room and chewed her bottom lip. Harry stood leaning against a broom rack, trying to look as cool and calm as possible, across from where she sat. This time it was Harry's turn to break the silence.

"Are you cold?"

"Not really." she answered.

"Good."

Harry watched her carefully. She shifted on the bench causing her skirt to rise a bit up her thighs. She moved to pull it back down, but noticed that Harry's eyes were on her. She left it and smiled at him shyly. He returned his signature, lopsided, boyish grin.

"So…" he began, "how long have you…"

"Wanted to kiss you?" she offered. He shrugged, and then nodded.

"I didn't." she admitted.

Harry felt his face whiten and his brows knot in confusion.

"Well, I mean, I didn't know I did!" she continued, giggling. "I just, kissed you I guess. And then, afterwards, I realized. I realized that I'd wanted to kiss you." She looked up at Harry and examined his piercing, green eyes before quietly adding, "And, then I realized that I wanted to kiss you again."

Harry could feel her soft, brown eyes probing his and his heart filled with emotion. She pursed her lips together and raised her eyebrows. It took him four long strides to move to where she sat on the locker room bench, but he did so swiftly. He stood in front of her, looking down onto her smooth, beautiful face. As though offering an invitation, she pulled her legs apart so that Harry could fit between them. This caused her skirt to hike up even further, which was not lost on Harry. He moved easily into the space she had made and lifted her chin gently with his fingers. She simultaneously grabbed his tie, using it to pull him down to her. Their lips met, but unlike the kiss in the corridor, this was slow and gentle. Harry slid his hand behind her neck, pushing her against him. Like the afternoon in the common room after they'd returned from Hogsmeade, Harry felt as though he'd somehow lost control of his actions. He was simply along for the ride, unable to stop what was slowly unfolding before him. He could feel the blood beginning to pump below his waist. Hermione's lips parted slightly and he automatically took the opportunity to dart his tongue against hers. He felt her body tense, but she did not pull away. Instead, she followed his lead, letting her tongue press rhythmically against his. Harry tried to clear his mind. He wanted to focus on nothing but what was happening right now in the Quidditch locker room. Hundreds of questions and fears and warnings clouded his head and he pushed them away forcefully. He moved his lips away from Hermione's, kissing a trail along her jaw line and then down her neck. Standing was uncomfortable in this now awkward, hunched over position. While continuing his journey down her throat, he moved around her leg and sat on the bench next to her. She suddenly pulled back, so that she was just out of his reach and giggled. Harry realized that at some point, his heart had begun thumping loudly. Other than that, the room was completely quiet. Hermione stood, running a hand through her hair. For a second, Harry felt a sense of dread. He imagined her turning and running from the locker room or telling him she had changed her mind. Instead, she took a deep breath, then moved in front of him. A strange smile crept across her face; a knowing smile, a practiced smile. Harry knew this smile well, even though he'd never actually seen it for real. It was her "I'm in control smile". Without speaking, she lowered herself, planting her hands on his thighs. Harry's mind buzzed. She's not…she couldn't…

She pushed her hands up Harry's trousers until she'd reached the buckle of his belt. As she moved to undo it, he brought his hands down on top of hers.

"Hermione…you don't…I mean…I don't want you to feel…" he stuttered, unable to get the words out in a comprehensible manner.

"Harry. Just…shut up." she said, forcefully moving his hands to the side. He didn't need to be told twice. She had quickly undone his belt, followed by his button. She then slowly pulled down his zipper. Harry's chest rose and fell as his breathing became heavy. She looked up at him and winked, before pushing her hands inside his trousers and under the elastic of his boxer shorts. Harry groaned uncontrollably as she slid her palm over him. He felt himself flush, embarrassed by his outburst in pleasure, but Hermione didn't seem to notice. She continued, wrapping her fingers around him and then pulled him out into the cool fall air. He was fully hard and his erection stood at attention, now freed from the confines of his pants. Hermione looked at him, her eyes as wide as saucers. Harry swallowed hard, feeling uncomfortably vulnerable, sitting exposed in the middle of the Quidditch locker room. His Adam's apple bounced down and then back up his throat. Hermione giggled quietly and extended her arm up to his face. She ran her fingers across his cheek and then over his lips. He closed his eyes and felt himself relax against her soft touch. She brought her hand back down to his lap and grabbed him gently. She began sliding her hand up and down his length, flicking her wrist each time she came to the head, sending a jolt of white hot pleasure through Harry's body. She began moving faster, gripping him tighter and he fought, unsuccessfully, a series of moans. And then, suddenly, she stopped. Harry's eyes popped open in protest. Hermione was still placed between his knees with her "in control" smile spread across her face. Her eyes, however, gave her away. They were wide and shining and glassy with uncertainty. And, they were glued to his with such raw intensity he couldn't have looked away even if his life depended on it. She ran her tongue over her lips and lowered her eyes. Harry's mind reeled. She couldn't…she wouldn't…

But, in one swift motion, she did. Harry felt his legs extend reflexively. He sucked in his breath so hard and so fast, he almost choked. Hermione's lips were around him and her tongue was doing things Harry couldn't imagine were anatomically possible. He fought the urge to grip the back of her head, not wanting to make any movements that might make her stop. Instead, he ran his fingers through his own mess of black hair. She swirled around him and he sighed loudly, no longer caring that his pleasure was being vocalized. She seemed to appreciate the praise and began moving her head up and down rhythmically. He could feel adrenaline pulsing in his stomach and down through his legs. And then, suddenly, there was a new pumping feeling beginning deep within the core of him. Harry felt panic creep into his chest.

"Her-Hermione…Hermione wait…stop…Hermione…"

She wasn't hearing him. Or, she was ignoring him. Harry silently prayed it was the latter. She was moving faster now, sliding her lips and tongue over him with a wet, sucking sound. Harry opened his mouth again, desperate to warn her of the impending chain reaction she was about to set off, but realized it was too late. His hands grabbed at the edge of the bench and his hips rocketed forward uncontrollably. He groaned; a deep, primitive, throaty sound and felt himself begin to gush. His entire body went rigid as the thick stream of pleasure flowed from him and every nerve ending in his body fired. Then, his body went limp. Hermione pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Harry's state of total relaxation was short lived as he watched her, terrified to receive her reaction. She looked up slowly, a smile of satisfaction dashed across her face. Harry let out a whoosh of breath in relief. She rose up off the ground and brushed off her knees. Harry grinned, feeling goofy. She cleared her throat.

"And that, if you're wondering," she said, tossing her hair over her shoulder, "I've wanted to do since you kissed me in the corridor."

Harry shook his head, smiling and she laughed. Then she turned on her heels and left him sitting, bemused, in the middle of the locker room.

Harry couldn't wipe the grin off his face. He felt like he was floating. After Hermione had left, he'd taken a few minutes to pull himself together and adjust himself before heading back to the castle. He'd gone straight to the Gryffindor common room, prepared to skip Herbology class and instead spend the afternoon reliving the interaction between Hermione and himself. He hadn't, however, anticipated Ron sitting on the couch across from the fire place. Harry hadn't even noticed his friend as he'd walked by, making a bee-line for the stairs to the boy's dormitories. He'd let out an embarrassingly high pitched yelp when Ron cleared his throat as he passed.

"Shit, Ron." Harry said, catching his breath from the scare.

"So, where were you?" Ron asked with an impish smile. Harry opened his mouth, then closed it slowly and cocked his head to the side. He wasn't sure just how much information he was prepared to disclose to Ron.

"What do you mean?" he asked, playing dumb. Ron didn't seem fooled by the act. He rolled his eyes at Harry.

"Well, you didn't make it down to lunch. Hermione neither. And on my way up here I noticed you were also no longer in the corridor. Which, by the way, you're welcome."

"Oh, right! Thanks for that mate!" Harry had forgotten that it had been Ron who'd told Hermione to wait for him outside of class. He owed him. He really owed him. Ron waved his hand nonchalantly.

"So?" Ron pushed. Harry couldn't stop the grin that spread over his face. He sighed in resignation.

"The Quidditch locker room."

Ron almost fell off the couch. His mouth hung open and he stared at Harry in disbelief. Harry shrugged and felt his smile pull even wider. Ron whistled.

"How the hell did you end up in the locker room?" Ron exclaimed. Again Harry shrugged.

"And, what did you…" Ron began and then shook his head, smiling. "You know what. Never mind. Good for you Harry."

Harry was thankful Ron didn't press him for more information. He wasn't really sure how much he was ready to tell and hadn't been prepared to field questions so soon. Ron had turned his attention to a book that had been resting on his lap. Harry took the opportunity to escape to the dormitories. He flopped down onto his bed, relishing the solitude. He was thoroughly exhausted, mind and body. He closed his eyes and within minutes fell asleep, replaying the day in his dreams.


	10. Chapter 10

**AUTHORS NOTES:**

Disclaimer: I know you saw this coming. I wonder if I did not put a disclaimer, would anyone really sue me? Anyhow, "Harry Potter" and all related material are not owned by me. After all, would I be writing fanfiction if they did? Said material is, however, owned by JK Rowling, Warner Bros. and Scholastic Books. I neither own the English language, nor the concept of love and romance. I figure I better cover all my bases while I'm at it. The plot is mine. And since, unlike the creators and distributors of HP, I am not a multi-millionaire, I will take you to court if you steal it.

This is a Harry/Hermione shipping. If this is not your cup of tea, please click the [x in the right hand corner of the screen. I understand this is not canon. I don't care. One of my biggest goals in this story was to make Ron likable. Because of the R/HR animosity, most H/Hr fics portray Ron poorly. I, however, feel he can still be an interesting character and be a key part of the comic relief. Every author loves feedback. Being that I am the author, I would love some feedback. So bring on the comments and criticisms.

While the overall story is rated NC-17, the following chapter is rated R.

When Harry woke, the sky outside was dark. He stretched his arms over his head and shivered as a chill ran down his spine. For a moment he wondered if he and Hermione's activities in the locker room had been real or if he had only dreamed them. Smiling in realization that it had actually happened, he stood and walked over to his dresser. As he'd done many times, he pulled open the top drawer and fished around for the pink box. The difference this time though, was that he slipped it into his pocket, instead of placing it back in the drawer after he'd looked it over. He ran his fingers through the rumpled mess of hair atop his head as he headed down the stairs to the common room. As usual on weekday evenings, it was alive with students reading and chatting. Harry looked around the room, his eyes searching for Hermione. But, when she was no where to be found they landed on Ron instead. He was hovering over a game of wizard's chess between Seamus and Neville. Harry walked over and patted his friend on the shoulder.

"Hey Harry." Ron said turning to him. "Seamus is about to take Neville's queen. Which he would have done a long time ago if he'd just listened to me about, oh, twelve moves ago."

"Shut up Ron." Seamus said through clenched teeth. It was obvious that his patience with Ron's 'help' had worn thin. Harry chuckled and then leaned in close to Ron.

"Have you seen Hermione?" he whispered. Ron thought for a moment, then nodded.

"She said…er…something about the library. I think." Ron answered and shrugged. Harry thanked him, wished Seamus good luck (both with winning the game and dealing with Ron) and slipped out of the common room. He walked the familiar path to the library slowly. Despite how comfortable he should feel around Hermione since she'd, well, done what she did, he was still nervous about seeing her. He slipped a hand into his pocket and squeezed the box. His stomach growled loudly. He'd missed both lunch and dinner.

Before he knew it, he had reached the library doors. One was slightly propped open and he slipped through quietly. It only took him a moment to locate Hermione as there were only a few students sprinkled around at the tables. Her back was to him and she appeared to be reading a very large, very old book. He took a deep breath and made his way to where she sat. He slid into the seat across from her and she looked up, startled by the sudden company.

"Hi." Harry whispered, grinning.

"Hi." she whispered back and then returned her attention to the book in front of her. Harry watched her for a few moments and then spoke again.

"What are you doing?"

She looked back up at him, her brows furrowed.

"Reading."

"Ah hah." Harry nodded. He looked around the library, catching the eye of the librarian, Madam Irma Pince, who raised her eyebrows at him suspiciously.

"What are you reading?"

Hermione flipped a page noisily and sighed.

"Ancient Runes." she said after a moment, without looking up.

"Oh." Harry leaned over, trying to get a closer look at the book, but Hermione snatched it up and glared at him.

"Harry, I have a lot of homework. Unlike some people I care about school and can't just go missing my classes whenever I please. I have to concentrate. If you need help with something I'll help you out after I get through this."

Harry stared at her incredulously, his mouth hanging open. She couldn't actually be mad that he'd skipped Herbology, could she? After all, it has her fault, really. Harry tried to think of something to say, but came up empty. Again his mind wondered whether or not the whole thing had been a dream. Frustrated and feeling rejected, he stood and stalked out of the library. Hermione didn't try to stop him.

By the time he'd returned to the Gryffindor common room he was nearly bubbling over with confusion and anger. The chess game between Seamus and Neville had ended and Ron now sat across the board from Dean, no doubt showing Seamus "how it's done". Harry was glad his friend was distracted and didn't notice him come in and head for the dormitory. He ascended the stairs and crossed the room to his dresser. He flung the top drawer open, snatched the pink box out of his pocket and hurled it inside. Slamming the drawer shut, he cursed under his breath. He then flounced down onto his bed and screwed his eyes closed. After a few minutes his anger started to melt away. He had napped most of the early evening so, he realized sadly, sleep wasn't going to offer him solace anytime soon. He turned over on his side and stared at nothing in particular as his mind worked furiously, trying to sort out the situation. It hadn't been the reception he'd expected or hoped for, but then again the whole situation was quite unfamiliar. It was comforting to think that maybe she'd just been nervous. Maybe she wasn't sure how to act around him now. Harry's mind examined every angle and over-examined every bit of dialogue between them. It was late when the other Gryffindor boys traipsed into the dormitory for the night as Harry pretended to be out cold, and it was much, much later when he finally fell asleep for real.

"Harry!"

Harry bolted upright. It took him a minute to get his bearings before he realized where he was and that it had been Ron's voice calling him. Ron chuckled as he pulled a pair of black trousers up to his waist.

"Guess the activities of the locker room were exhausting." Ron snickered. "Get ready. I'm going down to breakfast in five minutes with or without your lazy arse."

Harry rubbed the sleep from his eyes and stood. He stretched then made quick work of dressing. His mind was so wound with the anticipation of seeing Hermione again, that he didn't have time to worry whether or not his outfit made him look good.

The boys made their way to the Great Hall, Harry's heart thumping wildly in his chest. He wondered if she would be there this morning, sitting with a copy of The Daily Prophet, slowly sipping orange juice, or if her spot would be empty for another morning in a row. This question was answered immediately as they passed through the giant oak doors and his eyes automatically went to their usual seats. Hermione was sitting, flipping through what appeared to be the same old book from the library the night before. Harry was unaware that he'd been frozen in place. Ron, a few feet ahead of him turned and raised his eyebrows.

"Problem?"

"Uh, no." Harry answered, making his feet continue forward. He wasn't sure how he should feel now. Should he be relieved that Hermione was joining them for breakfast or terrified that their next interaction was already upon him. He still hadn't figured it out by the time he reached his normal place on the bench across from her and sat down. He held his breath for what seemed like years, waiting for her to look up and then, finally, she did.

"Oh! Good morning Harry, Ron." she greeted them. "I didn't even see you come in! I was so focused on my reading and, oh, never mind. Did you sleep well?"

"Yeah, I slept great!" Ron answered, pouring himself some juice. "After I destroyed Dean in a game of wizard's chess that is."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Yeah. Same here." Harry lied. "Well, except for the wizard's chess."

Hermione nodded and smiled, then wrinkled her nose as she watched Ron slap a mound of bacon onto his plate.

"What?" Ron asked, pushing a piece into his mouth and grinning.

"Nothing Ronald." she sighed, then turned her attention to Harry whose expression mimicked that of a deer in headlights. "I was thinking, after classes, we could go down to Hagrid's for a visit."

"We?" Harry blurted. Hermione eyed him suspiciously.

"Yes, we. As in us. Unless of course you and Ron have other pressing plans."

"Oh." Harry replied sheepishly. He had been hoping the invitation was being extended to him alone and that the "we" in question referred to Hermione and himself.

"Well, let me know if you'd like to." she said standing up. "Now I've got to go talk to Professor Babbling before class, so I'll see you two later."

Harry mumbled a goodbye and Ron tossed a wave over his shoulder. Harry watched her until she disappeared from the Great Hall and out of sight.

"Did she seem to be acting weird to you?" Harry asked his friend. Ron stopped chewing for a moment and tilted his head thoughtfully.

"Hmm…nope. Just like normal Hermione, I'd say."

"Well, yeah. I mean, isn't that weird?" Harry pressed.

Ron looked at him for a moment, then seemed to understand.

"Oh, you mean it's weird that she's acting normal after…after whatever it is you two did in the locker room." Ron smirked. Harry shrugged and then nodded reluctantly.

"Harry, you're my best mate, but I can't pretend to have a clue about girls. Too much trouble. Too complicated. I can't do all that reading between the lines crap. Although, maybe if you give me the details of your locker room escapades, I'd have a better idea of…"

"Forget it Ron." Harry interjected.

"Hey, I just want to help." Ron teased.

A few minutes later the class bell tolled.

Harry yawned. His body clock was out of whack after sleeping weird hours. He was also sitting in Arithmancy, which didn't help matters. Ron snored quietly beside him and across the room Hermione was alert and seemingly enthralled with the words flowing from Professor Vectors mouth. Harry was tuning them out. The words "class dismissed" did, however, make it to Harry's ears. He nudged his friend hard in the ribs with his elbow.

"Seven!" Ron blurted out, sitting up straight.

"Class is over you arse." Harry laughed, standing and pushing in his chair. Ron did the same and jabbed Harry in the arm. Harry glanced around the room, searching for Hermione. Her desk was already empty. Adjusting his robes, he followed Ron out of the classroom and out into the corridor. He was about to ask Ron a question regarding Potions homework when suddenly a blur of brown hair raced past him. It took him a moment to realize the blur had grabbed his hand and was now pulling him down the corridor. Still allowing himself to be dragged, he looked at the hand around his and let his gaze slide up the arm, to the shoulder and finally to the recognizable face of his captor.

"Hermione? Wait…what…where are we going?"

She didn't answer him. Instead, she pulled him into an empty classroom and shut the door behind them. Only then did she release his hand. She then turned to face the door, mumbling spells under her breath. Harry heard a faint clicking sound as he watched, completely bewildered. After muttering softly a bit more she turned her attention to the three windows to their left. She bounced over to them, pulled down the shades and murmured a few more incantations. When she finished, she turned back to face him, her eyes sparkling. Harry opened his mouth in an attempt to ask what the hell was going on, but the moment his lips parted, she'd pounced on him, crushing him into silence. He felt her hands snake through his mess of hair as she pressed her body flat against his. Her kisses were raw and desperate and very un-Hermione like. As much as he was finding this all very enjoyable, he wanted to ask her why. Why was she doing this? Why had she acted as though nothing had happened between them before? But, that would involve stopping her. And, Harry realized, stopping her would most certainly wake him from what had to be a dream. A dream, yes. He must have fallen asleep in Arithmancy and right now he was dreaming.

Hermione grabbed a handful of his hair and pulled. He winced, breaking the kiss. She bit her bottom lip apologetically as she stared innocently up into his confused, green eyes. Her hand slid down and cupped the side of his face. He closed his eyes, feeling her touch, soft and warm against his cheek.

"Hermione…" he whispered and she covered his mouth again with hers. Her tongue darted out, forcing its way against his. She placed her hands flat against his chest and pushed hard, shoving him backwards until he met resistance. Glancing back quickly he was able to identify the source of the resistance as a large, oak desk. Turning his attention back to Hermione, he automatically placed his hands on her hips and rocked her against him, rubbing her abdomen against the spot where he was quickly hardening. He groaned into her mouth as she pressed against him hard. She pulled at his tie; loosening the knot then slid it off his neck and tossed it behind her. In one swift movement he hooked his arm behind her left knee and pulled it up. She lost enough balance that he was able to spin them around, swapping positions. Now he pinned her against the desk, using one arm to hoist up her leg, the other holding her lower back. She squirmed against him a bit then dragged his robes down off his shoulders. Suddenly Harry wished he'd spent a little more time getting ready this morning, looking down at the wrinkled, green tee-shirt he'd thrown on. Hermione didn't seem to notice as she pushed the green shirt upwards, exposing Harry's stomach and chest. He moved his hand from the small of her back, down to her other, free knee and used both arms to pick her up under her legs and plant her firmly onto the desk. Once he was sure she was sitting properly, he freed his arms, pulling the robe clear off. Hermione giggled and helped him lift his tee-shirt up over his head. She ran her hands across his chest, then down, tracing the dark lines created by his stomach muscles and down even further, grabbing the waistband of his trousers and pulling him close. Again their mouths clashed, their teeth knocking together in the process. Harry twisted a hand up into her wild hair, taking a fistful and tugging ever so gently. He was fighting for control; and giving her quite a run for her money too if he did say so himself. But who was he kidding? He was never really in control. Even the short seconds where he felt like he was in control, it was because she was letting him. And, by her letting him be in control, she was really still in the power position. He smirked. She was tricky, but god damn it, she was his. Well, she was his for right now at least.

She pulled her head back, breaking the kiss and his thoughts. He was breathing heavy and, he noticed, so was she. She pushed him back gently; just enough so that she could pull her own robe off. Then, without hesitation, she grabbed the bottom of her yellow jumper and pulled it up over her head. Harry couldn't help his mouth from hanging open. She wasn't wearing a bra. She laughed and pulled him close again, taking his left hand and placing it on her chest. His hand trembled against her soft, milky skin and he took a deep breath to steady himself. With new resolve, he let his finger tips trace the curve of her breast ever so slightly, enjoying the way she shivered beneath him. Her legs wrapped around his waist and she hooked her ankles behind him, locking his body against hers. Again she began grinding rhythmically against him. Keeping his palm pressed against her chest, Harry began to match her movements, throbbing painfully below the belt of his trousers. He wasn't sure how much longer he could carry on like this before he literally exploded. This was a question that would go unanswered, because a few seconds later the forceful jingling of the classroom doorknob shot cold fear through his veins. Hermione leapt off the desk and bent down to scoop up her clothing frantically. Harry did the same, groping around on the floor for his shirt, tie and robes. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hermione tugging on her yellow jumper and then her robes.

"My shirt! Where the fuck is my shirt?" Harry hissed, having found his robes. Hermione joined his search as the person behind the door began banging their fists loudly.

"Someone in there!?"

"Ooh here!" Hermione whispered handing him his shirt. He pulled his clothes on as quick as he could, cursing as he stuck his head into the arm hole. Hermione ran over to the wall of windows pulling open one of the shades. She pushed against the pane, but it didn't budge. Harry's heart thumped wildly.

"Damn it." Hermione said under her breath. She took a few steps back, grabbed her wand from her back pocket and pointed it at the window. "Alohomora."

There was a soft pop and she grabbed Harry's hand. They dashed to the window, which this time when pushed, swung open. Outside the door a new voice could be heard.

"The door seems to be locked. This key should work though, Professor."

Harry and Hermione exchanged fearful, wide eyed glances.

"Come on. Let's go!" Hermione breathed, tossing a leg out the window. Suddenly Harry remembered his tie.

"Hermione! My tie!" Harry breathed just as she lowered herself down to the grass outside the classroom window. There was a loud click sound that Harry immediately identified as the classroom door being opened by key. Forgetting his lost piece of clothing, he dove, head first out the window just as the door began opening. He hit the ground with a thud and Hermione rushed over, grabbing his arm and tugging him to his feet. Still fearful of being caught, they broke out into a run, crossing the grounds of Hogwarts until the window they'd escaped from was out of sight. Out of breath, they collapsed onto the grass. They were completely silent for a moment and then Hermione burst out in laughter. Harry glared at her.

"Are you mad!?" he asked her, completely straight faced.

"Oh, come on Harry!" she choked, holding her sides. Harry's heart was still beating erratically and despite all sane, logical reason he couldn't help but laugh along with her. He also couldn't help but notice how cute it was, the way her nose scrunched up when she was laughing.

"All I want to know," he said, beginning to breath normally, "is who you are and what you've done with Hermione Granger?"

She shot him a flirty smile and shrugged her shoulders. She sighed deeply then stood, adjusting her jumper and running her fingers through her hair.

"So, Hagrid's after class then?" she asked him. The question caught him off guard.

"Uh…yeah. Wait, what?"

Harry's mind buzzed with all the questions he wanted to ask her. She giggled and turned back towards the castle.

"Goodbye Harry."

"Goodbye. Goodbye?" Harry watched her from his position on the grass. She began walking, the distance between them stretching quickly.

"What about my tie!?" Harry called, pushing himself to his feet, but she was too far to hear him.


	11. Chapter 11

11

**A/N: **I own nothing. Reviews are appreciated!

**A/N 2: **While the overall story is rated NC-17, the following chapter is rated PG.

_Everyone knows I'm in  
Over my head  
Over my head  
With eight seconds left in overtime  
She's on your mind  
She's on your mind_

Let's rearrange  
I wish you were a stranger I could disengage  
Just say that we agree and then never change  
Soften a bit until we all just get along

Over My Head (Cable Car) – The Fray

xxx

"She did what!?" Ron exclaimed, shaking Harry by the shoulders. "Hermione? Hermione Granger? The Gryffindor girl, with the brown, curly hair?"

Harry nodded, grinning proudly. Normally, he would have been struggling between the option of telling Ron the details of his afternoon and keeping them secretly to himself. However, Ron had seen Hermione drag Harry down the hall and out of sight. He'd also seen him return, quite disheveled, to the common room forty-five minutes later. Of course, he could have made something up – like she wanted to share notes or something like that, but the truth had been so, so much better.

"I know! Out of character, but obviously not out of the realm of possibility." Harry smiled.

Ron snorted with laughter.

"Sure, say that now. Later you'll find out you've been snogging her while she was under the Imperius Curse."

"Great, Ron, thanks. Way to ruin the moment for me."

"Hey, you never know!" Ron shrugged.

Harry rolled his eyes at Ron, but couldn't help himself from beaming. The whole morning still seemed surreal to him. He couldn't wait to see Hermione again. He couldn't wait to tell her how amazing he thought their escapade had been and how perfect he thought she was. Luckily, it seemed he didn't need to wait long. Hermione entered the common room carrying a large stack of books, a few of which looked rather furry. She dropped them down onto one of the tables then turned to face Harry and Ron. Harry swallowed hard. He could feel Ron's eyes burning into the side of his head and could only imagine the smirk dashed across his face. Hermione, however, was completely unfazed.

"I picked up a few books from the library that I thought Hagrid might like," she said, motioning to the pile.

Hagrid wasn't exactly welcome in the school library. Madam Pince had made it quite clear that he was far too loud and large and distracting for a library setting and although he was never technically banned, Hagrid preferred to avoid most confrontation. Truthfully, the few times Hagrid had gone into the school's library, reading had not really been his primary objective, so Harry doubted he lost any sleep over the issue. Hermione, however, had made it her personal mission to literally bring the library to Hagrid, picking out a few books each week to bring down to his hut. Harry wasn't even sure he could read, but every time she brought new books, Hagrid acted as though she'd given him gold. He supposed the thought was nice enough.

"Ah, just what Hagrid needs. More books," Ron said, sarcastically. "Hope you picked ones with lots of pictures."

Harry laughed, a bit loudly. Hermione didn't seem to notice She glared at them then stuck out her tongue.

xxx

As they headed towards Hagrid's hut, Harry's mind buzzed numbly. He was waiting for Hermione to make some kind of an acknowledgement that this morning had actually happened, but so far there had been none. No wink, no whisper, nothing. For the most part, Hermione and Ron argued, occasionally asking for Harry's input as to who was right or wrong. Things between all three of them were completely normal and Harry wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing. He was still trying to figure it out when they reached the edge of Hagrid's garden, where he stood with his back to them, watering an array of plants and vegetables.

"Hello, Hagrid!" Hermione called, her arms clutching the pile of books. Hagrid, startled, turned around quickly, dousing them with a stream of water. Ron cried out in surprise.

"Blimey, yeh three! Startled me there, yeh did!" Hagrid snapped his fingers and the stream of water stopped.

"I picked you up a few more books," Hermione said brightly, although her face looked pained as she stared down at the wet pile. Hagrid grinned and bowed his head in thanks.

"C'mon inside. I'll put on a pot o' tea fer yeh." Hagrid climbed, as carefully as possible, out of the garden and up to the hut, opening the large, heavy door for his three visitors. They entered, each taking their usual place as he set out four, soup-bowl sized teacups.

"So how yeh three bin? Beautiful weather! Bin havin' a nice day?" Hagrid asked, filling a massive teapot with water.

Ron coughed loudly. Harry avoided his stare, which he could feel now burning into the back of his head.

"Nice enough," Hermione answered politely. "Busy. I've got three essays and Snape wants us to memorize our Potions chapter."

Hearing Hermione respond so nonchalantly, Harry felt the need to add his own answer.

"I've had a great day," he blurted out. _Great? He had a great day? His rendezvous with Hermione far surpassed 'great'. Would she be offended by such a lackluster word as 'great'?_

"Superb, brilliant, wonderful day," Harry corrected. The words sounded foolish and he could feel his ears getting hot. This time, Harry did turn to look at Ron, whose face was a peculiar shade of purple as he struggled to suppress his laughter. Harry suddenly wondered if telling Ron had been a mistake. Tearing his eyes away from Ron, he glanced nervously at Hermione. She was idly flipping through one of the books she had carried down, completely unfazed by his outburst. A stretch of silence filled the hut. Ron's eyes darted around the room and Hagrid raised his eyebrows slightly.

"So, did you finish planting those Cryt-thingys?" Ron asked, breaking the quiet.

"Crysthblooms? Yeh I did. Things already started sproutin' too," Hagrid answered, beaming.

"Crysthblooms?" Hermione echoed, looking up and wriggling her nose. She had stopped flipping pages and was now leaning forward on her seat in curiosity.

Ron and Hagrid exchanged glances.

"Harry, why don' yeh show Hermione the Crysthblooms we planted. Bet yeh won' even recognize 'em now that they've sprouted."

Harry narrowed his eyes at Ron then swallowed hard. Hermione looked at him expectantly and he shrugged. _Well, now seems as good a time as any to get her alone and talk_, he thought. Harry could feel his heart speed up. He cleared his throat.

"Alright."

xxx

The times before, Harry had no prior knowledge they'd be sharing some alone time. They had been instances of spontaneity and each time, he'd been completely caught off guard. Now, as they walked side by side away from Hagrid's hut, Harry's nerves were getting the best of him. For as much time as he'd spent thinking about this moment, he'd never actually formulated a plan. He'd never really prepared at all.

They continued walking in silence until they'd reached the edge of the forest where the Crysthblooms had been planted. The once large, green, leafy bulbs were now a blinding white. A few thin, short, bright orange stubs had emerged from within each one, parting the leafy folds.

"Wow," Harry murmured, surprised by the appearance of the cabbage-like plants he had helped Hagrid plant only a few days ago.

"I take it they didn't always look like this," Hermione said, squatting down to further inspect one. Harry shook his head.

Hermione studied it carefully, being sure to leave enough distance between her self and the foreign plant. She knew all too well that most things Hagrid got his hands on were dangerous. After a few more moments, she stood.

"Interesting," she said, brushing off her knees. "What are they're used for."

Harry shrugged.

"Dunno, but I'm sure you'll make a bee-line for the library and find out as soon as we go back to the castle," he teased. Hermione stuck out her tongue, but smiled. A long pause hung between them.

"Bet the tea will be ready soon." She made a gagging sound and giggled. Hagrid was not known for his cooking skills.

Harry rolled his eyes and laughed, feeling some of the tension leave his shoulders. When they had quieted again, he took a deep breath.

"Hermione…"

"We really _should _get back though," she interrupted, moving passed Harry, towards Hagrid's home. Instinctively, Harry's hand shot out and grabbed her by the arm. His eyes widened nervously as she twisted her head to look at him, her brows furrowed.

"Honestly, Harry. The tea is not _that _bad," she laughed, shaking her arm to loosen his hold.

"It's not that," he said softly, releasing her from his grip.

"Well, what then?" she asked, a tinge of annoyance lacing her voice. For a second, Harry stared at her incredulously. Then frustration overwhelmed him.

"You can't be serious! You don't think there's anything else we should possibly discuss?"

Hermione's lips pressed into a tight, thin line. She made a show of scratching her head thoughtfully, then shrugged.

"Nope."

"What!?" Harry cried with exasperation. "Hermione, what is going on here? One minute you've got your tongue down my throat and the next you'll barely give me the time of day, or you'll ask me about homework, or…or…you'll talk to me about tea. I don't know what you're trying to do to me, but if your objective is to drive me absolutely nuts, you're succeeding."

Hermione stared at him, unblinking. Her face turned pink and her eyes shimmered with a wetness that immediately made Harry feel as though he'd eaten twenty of Hagrid's aptly named rock cakes.

"Well, Harry Potter, if that's how you feel…fine," she yelled, her voice much higher than he remembered ever having heard it. "I'll be sure to keep my tongue to myself from now on, thank you very much."

Harry sputtered incoherently. This was not at all the way he had wanted things to go. Not even close. Hermione glared at him then spun on her heels.

"Hermione, no…I just…Wait…" he called, his voice much softer than before. She didn't turn around. She continued stalking away – not towards Hagrid's, but all the way back to the castle.

Harry stood at the edge of the Forbidden Forest feeling completely disoriented. His stomach churned sickeningly and his ears were hot with anger. He wasn't sure if he was more livid with himself or Hermione, but one thing was certain – things had not gone well. His hands were clenched into fists at his side as he spun around and kicked the nearest Crysthbloom as hard as he could. It dislodged from the soil and rolled into the darkness of the forest, emitting a horrible, hissing noise. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and sighed. _She could not have been serious, _he thought, replaying the argument in his head.

Harry had always seen Hermione as the logical one of their group. She had a great head on her shoulders and a multitude of rational explanations available for all situations. Perhaps, this was why her behavior was so unsettling. Something simply was not adding up. Harry's thoughts floated to his dormitory and the petite box tucked away in his dresser. He felt a tug deep within his chest. The contents of the box would explain so much on his end, but he'd feel like a fool giving it to her now. After all, it wasn't _his _feelings being called into question. It was Hermione who was being unreadable and stubborn and… _bloody impossible!_ Harry groaned.

He had never been good with girls, ever. For one thing, he'd never even had any real contact with a member of the opposite sex until he was eleven. He had been ostracized during his years at public school and he certainly didn't consider Aunt Petunia and Aunt Marge to have any feminine qualities whatsoever. It completely baffled him that so many girls at Hogwarts positively fawned over him. Well, of course there was the whole fame, money, hero thing. Harry shook his head. He despised it, honestly. He never asked for any of this and he never wanted glory and infamy. He certainly never wanted to fall for the one female who treated him like a human being instead of a rare prize.

Yet, without ever realizing it was happening, he had. That fact alone would have been plenty to grapple with, but the addition of Hermione's wonky behavior just increased the situation's difficulty tenfold. The dull buzz of an impending headache settled behind Harry's eyes. Maybe some tea would do him good, he thought, remembering Hagrid and Ron were waiting. _Hagrid and Ron. _Another bubble of anger boiled up from the pit of Harry's stomach. _They _had sent him out here with Hermione; _they _had orchestrated this whole mess. He gritted his teeth as he strode back in the direction of Hagrid's hut, planning to give them both a piece of his mind.


End file.
